


Personal Best

by triedunture



Series: Sporty High School AU [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Foot Fetish, M/M, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-01
Updated: 2011-11-01
Packaged: 2017-10-25 16:38:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/272448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/triedunture/pseuds/triedunture
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A sequel to <a href="http://triedunture.livejournal.com/613941.html">An Extra Lap</a>. Cas is on the high school swim team and Dean Winchester is the super-attractive, too-cool-for-him lacrosse player. Except after hooking up in the locker room one cold night, they can't stay away from each other. Date number 2 goes pretty well, even though they don't really leave the backseat.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Personal Best

_**Supernatural fic: Personal Best**_  
Title: Personal Best  
Author: [](http://triedunture.livejournal.com/profile)[**triedunture**](http://triedunture.livejournal.com/)  
Pairing: Dean/Cas  
Length: 4800 words  
Rating: NC17  
Warnings: PWP, high school AU (but characters are 18), oral/manual sex, dirty talk, foot fetish, possible triggery homophobia/coming out issues

Summary: A sequel to [An Extra Lap](http://triedunture.livejournal.com/613941.html). Cas is on the high school swim team and Dean Winchester is the super-attractive, too-cool-for-him lacrosse player. Except after hooking up in the locker room one cold night, they can't stay away from each other. Date number 2 goes pretty well, even though they don't really leave the backseat.

<><><><>

  
Cas hefted himself out of the pool, his arms locking and lifting him up on the deck in one smooth motion. All around him, his teammates were shoving and dripping their way to the locker room, panting for air after a long workout, chattering about their weekend plans, snapping their Swedish goggles off their faces. A normal Friday afternoon, really.

Except this Friday afternoon, Dean Winchester was sitting at the bottom of the metal bleachers against the wall of the natatorium, craning his neck to search for Cas in the crowd of swimmers. Cas could see why Dean was having problems; almost all the white guys on the swim team looked identical in their suits and caps. Sometimes even their parents couldn't tell them apart during meets.

Cas broke away from the pack to head toward Dean, stripping off his cap and goggles so Dean could recognize him. It was both satisfying and nerve-wracking to see Dean's eyes light up when he did just that. Dean stood, his thumbs hooked casually in his fitted jeans, as Cas approached. Cas was suddenly very aware of his own near-nudity and general drowned-rat appearance.

"Hey!" Dean's eyes raked down his body before snapping back to his face. He spoke in a low voice, just for Cas's ears. "If I were to kiss you hello right now, would that be cool with you?"

Cas felt his face heat and he glanced over his shoulder at his fellow swimmers, openly staring in their direction, curiosity etched on their tired faces. This wasn't how he'd planned to come clean to his teammates, but how could anyone deny Dean anything?

"Well, you're already blowing their minds by speaking to me in public," Cas murmured, "so sure. Why not?"

Dean grinned, slow and smug, before leaning in and brushing his warm lips over Cas's damp cheek. Cas blinked. He'd been expecting an over-the-top liplock from Dean, not such tender, intimate affection. He stared at Dean's parted lips, a little lost in thought.

"Get a room!" Jo, the captain of the girls team, shouted at them as she passed.

Cas jolted out of his Dean-induced stupor. "I, uh, should go get dressed. Meet you at my car?"

"Yeah. Burgers on me tonight." Dean shouldered his bag and headed for the exit with a jaunty wave. Cas watched him leave before turning back around to face his team.

A mixture of cheers, jeers, and catcalls followed him into the boys' locker room. There were some backslaps in there as well, which Cas had not expected. He just kept his eyes forward and twisted his combination lock with a single-minded determination that he hoped looked like nonchalance.

"Banging the lacrosse captain," Roy, another senior, called. "Way to climb that ladder, Cassie!"

"Yes, Roy," Cas deadpanned as he grabbed his towel, "I know you're dying inside now that I'm taken, but I'm sure your heart will go on somehow."

More hoots and hollers echoed through the locker room. Roy slunk away to the showers. Cas kept his head down and started in that direction too, eager to leave as quickly as possible, when a bigger guy blocked his path. Michael, one of the sprinters who was probably going to get a full ride to a state school, lounged against a row of lockers with his arms crossed over his chest.

"So when you two guys get together, are you the woman or is Winchester?" he drawled.

The boyish laughter died down, replaced by a nervous tension. Cas groped for some snappy comeback, but he'd used up the only one he had on Roy.

"I—" he stuttered. "It's not—"

"I guess now we know why you want to anchor the relay so bad: so you can watch as many guys bend over on the block as possible." Michael smiled, full of shark teeth.

Cas opened his mouth to protest, but Gabe, the captain of the boys' team, intervened. He rounded the corner of the locker room, toweling his long wet hair.

"Come on, Mike, get off Cas's case. You sound like an ignorant piece of shit. And at least Cas is getting his. You're still jerking it to pics of your ex-girlfriend, last I heard."

Cas shot a look of gratitude over at Gabe, who was an unlikely defender of Cas's good name. They'd been swimming together since middle school, but Cas had never considered himself one of Gabe's buddies. Gabe was kind of a goof-off. The only reason he was captain was because no one wanted to vote for dickwad Michael, and Gabe was the second fastest sprinter.

Michael sneered at Gabe. "Oh yeah? Well, it sounds like you might be a homo too, if you care about it so much."

This was about as ridiculous as accusing Gabe of having a second head. Everyone on the team knew about Gabe's exploits with women; hell, they'd all been accomplices in sneaking a girl from St. John's into Gabe's hotel room when they were at districts last year. The guy was a heterosexual legend.

And unlike Cas, Gabe had the perfect reply ready. He pinched at his own flat nipples and waggled his tongue obscenely at Michael.

"You caught me, Mikey. Be my homecoming date?"

The team broke into a chorus of raucous laughter, and the tense moment was broken. Michael stormed past Cas, his face beet red, muttering a warning that Cas "shouldn't let his rainbow shit get in the way of training."

All in all, it was one of the better ways to come out of the closet, Cas supposed. He showered off, got dressed, and practically ran to the parking lot.

Dean was sitting on the hood of Cas's rusty-yet-trusty Mercury Cougar, a hand-me-down from Cas's mother. When Dean saw him, his face split into another million-watt grin and he jumped down to take Cas's workout bag from him.

"Hey, I hope the guys on your team didn't give you too much shit about me. I guess I could have just waited to say hi to you out here."

"No worries," Cas said. "Michael was a jerk about it, but when is he not." At least it was over, which was a huge weight off Cas's shoulders.

They drove through a Wendy's to pick up dinner ("Just order the entire Value Menu, Cas, it's easier that way.") and Cas was about to suggest they take it to his house, but Dean had other ideas.

"Why don't we drive out to the lake?" he said. "It's supposed to be nice at sunset."

The lake was nice, not that either of them noticed. With the paper sack of ninety-nine cent burgers and baked potatoes cooling on the dashboard, Dean and Cas tumbled into the backseat, kissing each other like it had been years and not the one week since they'd hooked up in the locker room.

It was all still so new, the taste of Dean, the way he playfully nipped at Cas's mouth, the spastic flex of his fingers in Cas's damp hair. He lapped at Cas's neck, sucked at his sensitive earlobe, drew his sharp teeth across Cas's collarbone. With every bite and lick, he asked, "You like that? Like that, Cas?"

And Cas did. The car windows steamed up and time seemed to slow down. They traded kisses back and forth for what seemed like an hour, hands roaming over clothes or dipping under a hem to tickle at a bit of bare skin. Finally, Dean pulled back to gaze up at Cas, sprawled out on top of him.

"So," he began, "what exactly are you into?"

Cas didn't understand the question. "Um. This. I'm into this."

Dean laughed, a delighted sound. "Yeah, I get that." He palmed the front of Cas's jeans briefly, where a rock-hard erection was straining against the fabric. Cas stiffened and shut his eyes with a moan. "I meant, what _else_ are you into?"

"M-more of this?" Cas opened one eye to gauge Dean's reaction. It wasn't what he'd hoped. Dean sighed in fond frustration and sat up a little, putting more distance between them.

"You don't have to be embarrassed, Cas. I just want to know so we can, you know, have more fun," he said. "I want to get you off the way you like."

Cas hesitated, looking down at Dean's deep green eyes. A sudden fear gripped him. What if he told Dean he wanted to top, and Dean turned out to be a total top? Which, really, looked very likely. What if he told Dean about his foot thing and it grossed him out? What if he and Dean weren't as compatible as he'd hoped?

His face must have betrayed his concerns, because Dean cleared his throat and said, "I'll start, okay? I'm really into the whole semi-public, 'oh my god, we could get caught' sort of thing. Like right now, knowing any jerkoff could just peek in through the window and see us grinding back here? So fucking hot." Dean's hips lifted off the car seat to fit against Cas for a breath-stealing moment.

"You seem to like, uh, keeping a running commentary too," Cas gasped.

Dean nodded. "Yep, love me my dirty talk. So go on. We're already checking things off my list. What's on yours?"

"Oh, I..." Cas shrugged, his mouth suddenly dry. He envied Dean, who was so matter-of-fact about what he wanted. Cas couldn't even begin to describe all the things he dreamed of doing with Dean; it was just too much.

Dean sat up fully, his hands clasped to Cas's elbows, grounding him. He held Cas's gaze unflinchingly. "Last week in the locker room, when you licked my foot clean, was that something you like?" he asked. "You seemed to really get off on it."

Cas shook his head and stared down at the faded beige upholstery. "N-no, no way."

"Yes, way." Dean's voice was teasing, but he ducked his head to catch Cas's eyes again, his face steeled with serious resolve. "Dude, there's nothing wrong with it."

Cas bit his lip. "But it's not something you're into."

Dean shrugged expansively. "Maybe not. But I'm game. I guess I just don't get what's so great about my feet."

"Well, they're very nice feet," Cas said, and it was true. Dean's feet were pleasantly shaped, not too bony or too wide, with soft skin and neatly clipped nails.

Dean seemed to take the compliment in stride, though. He grinned cockily and reached down to the floorboards to pull off his Nikes and socks. "You're the expert, man. Now, I've had a long day. I think I could use a foot rub."

Cas watched Dean recline across the backseat, his feet propped up in Cas's lap. If there was a heaven, surely it was this moment, Cas thought. He stared down at Dean's wriggling toes, unable to even move at first.

"Are you sure?" he asked, his hands hovering in the air.

"Trust me, it's fine," Dean said. He folded his hands behind his head, the picture of laidback cool.

Cas massaged Dean's arches, pressing his thumbs at the apex and working his way up toward his ankles, first the right foot, then the left. Dean hummed in pleasure, his eyes drifting shut. They stayed that way for quite some time, Cas just rubbing Dean's feet and watching his face twitch and relax in turns. "Feels good," Dean murmured. He rubbed the ball of his left foot along Cas's lap, where his erection was more noticeable than ever. "Feels good for you too, huh?"

"Yes," Cas whispered, working his fingers along the delicate bones of Dean's toes.

"Hey, remember what I promised you last time?" Dean licked his lips. "Said I'd suck you off like you did me. You want me to do that?"

"Oh yes," Cas said, his voice a thready thing. His hands faltered, giving up on the massage as Dean shifted his feet out of Cas's lap. Dean pressed on Cas's chest until he laid down, then proceeded to kiss him senseless while divesting him of his shirt and jeans. As wildly amazing as it felt to have Dean's hands on his bare skin, Cas was a wreck of nerves; Dean hadn't seen him naked yet, and he worried what his reaction might be. He wasn't built like Dean was, all broad and All-American.

Dean practically yanked his boxer briefs down his legs and tossed them over his shoulder, and the hungry look in his eyes as he stared down at Cas forestalled any fears. "Look at you," Dean murmured, running his palms down Cas's chest, across his flat belly, and down his hips to his thighs. "Jesus, you're gorgeous. Thought I was going to go crazy when I saw you after practice. Do you have any idea how hot you are? How perfect your body is?"

"I bet you say that to all the guys who swim twelve hours a week," Cas joked, trying to play it cool.

But Dean didn't let him. He rose up above Cas and framed his flushed face in those big, square hands, forcing Cas to meet his intense gaze. "I ain't saying this to nobody else. Just you. You're going to believe me when I say it, okay?"

Something stuck in Cas's throat, like a lump of clay. He could only look up and nod. Dean nodded along too, his smile growing lop-sided and tender.

"Now about that blowie," Dean said, slowly lowering himself down Cas's body.

Cas tipped his head back until it hit the hard plastic of the car door. The sight of Dean's mouth hovering over his erection was too much; he didn't want to embarrass himself by finishing in thirty seconds. He dug his fingernails into his palms as Dean lowered his head, his tongue warm and wet and soft against the very tip of Cas's cock.

"God, you taste amazing," Dean whispered. He lapped at the slit like a cat, licking away the steadily forming beads of precome. "Like chlorine and sex." Cas could feel him grinning against his shaft.

"Sorry, I showered, but the smell doesn't really go away," Cas said.

"Don't worry, I like it. All squeaky clean." Dean took the head of Cas's cock into his mouth and suckled experimentally. Cas drew a sharp intake of breath, his spine bowing like a whipcord, arching off the backseat.

Dean pulled off with a low chuckle, jacking Cas's cock in his hand while examining him carefully. "So sensitive." He dipped lower to drag the flat of his tongue along the seam of Cas's balls. Cas felt his toes curl helplessly, one foot on the floor, the other propped up over the back of the seat. His hands reached for Dean without his consent, and he dug his fingers through his thick dark hair.

"Yeah, that's it," Dean murmured, lapping there again and again. "That's it, sweetheart, go ahead, Cas, just let go."

"Dean." Cas's voice was rough and strangled. "You need to stop talking."

One final wolfish grin, and Dean allowed himself to be guided back to Cas's cock. He swallowed it down almost halfway, gripping the base in a tight fist and sucking with abandon. Cas keened, a high sound in the back of his throat, and squeezed his eyes shut. Then Dean's mouth was gone, and his hand kept jacking him feverishly, and Dean was sitting up so that he was face-to-face with Cas's foot, the one draped over the back of the seat. And he was _kissing_ it, pressing his wet lips all along the ankle. Finally he sucked on Cas's little toe, swirling his clever tongue around it with a moan.

"Fuck, Dean!" Cas shouted. "I'm—I'm going to—"

Dean dove back down and sealed his mouth over Cas's cock to catch the first pulse of come. It seemed to last forever, Cas trembling against the threadbare upholstery while Dean swallowed load after load. When his whiteout vision finally cleared, Cas opened his eyes to find Dean hovering over him, a look on his face that somehow combined smugness and concern.

"I didn't break you, did I?" he asked.

Cas kissed him again, relishing the strange taste of Dean mixed with himself. "I'll live," he said.

They laid there in the backseat, sweating and breathing against each other. Dean was still hard against Cas's hip, and after recovering his brain cells, Cas rubbed a palm over the shape of it underneath the taut denim.

Dean groaned. "You don't have to take care of that."

"Want to," Cas murmured. He opened Dean's fly and brought his cock out into the open, fisting it slowly. Dean rose above Cas, caging him with his limbs. His body shook with the strain of staying aloft.

"Going to come," Dean hissed. "Going to come all over you, then lick you clean."

Cas's breath hitched but his hand only moved faster.

"You want me to do that, Cas?" Dean asked, his eyes hazy with lust.

"Oh god, yes." Cas's spent cock gave a valiant twitch against his thigh at the idea.

Dean was a man of his word. He came in long spurts across Cas's pale torso, marking him on his right nipple, down his chest, and near his navel. And as promised, Dean lowered his head and licked away the mess like he was starving for it. Cas cried out as his tongue swiped across his sensitive nipple, and Dean chuckled against his rib cage.

"Fucking hell," Dean murmured.

"Seconded," Cas whispered, running his fingers through Dean's hair. Dean should have been a crushing weight on top of Cas's chest, but he didn't mind staying in that position while Dean caught his breath.

<><><><>

"So," Dean said as Cas pulled up to Dean's ranch-style house, "I'd say date number 2 went pretty well. What do you think?"

"I think I want to see what date number 3 looks like," Cas answered, fighting the blush that crawled up his face. "Maybe we can do something, I don't know, wholesome to start. Like see a movie."

Cas was worried that Dean would shrug off the suggestion with a laugh, because movies were what couples did and they weren't really a couple, were they? They were just guys who got fast-food and rounded third base together. But Dean smiled that blinding, toothy smile and said, "Yeah. I'd like that." He reached out and placed his hand over Cas's on the gear shifter. "I like you, Cas. A lot."

"Me too. I mean, I also like you. A lot," Cas stammered.

Dean grinned wider, if that was possible. "Goodnight," he said.

"Goodnight." Cas gave a small sigh as Dean kissed him gently just like he had at the pool.

"Call you tomorrow," Dean promised.

"Sure." Cas was wondering how he was going to drive away with knees like jelly when all of a sudden the front door of Dean's house slammed open and a man, outlined in the light from inside, shouted, "Dean Franklin Winchester, you get your ass in here right this minute, young man!"

Cas was shocked by this turn of events, but even so, a small part of his brain thought _Franklin?_

"Oh shit," Dean muttered, frozen half in, half out of the car. Neither boy moved a muscle as Coach Winchester barreled across the yard towards them. If Dean was the personification of the all-American boy, his father was the embodiment of the red-blooded American man. He was broad and tall with a full beard and a steely look in his eyes that Cas was sure did not bode well. Coach Winchester grabbed Dean by the sleeve of his coat and propelled him out of Cas's car.

"Where have you been?" his father demanded.

"Out with friends, god! It's not even ten," Dean said.

"And you can't answer your cell?"

"I didn't hear it. Must've been on silent since school."

"While you couldn't be bothered to pick up the phone today, I did. And guess who gave me a call tonight?" Mr. Winchester said, his voice harsh and mocking. "Michael Arches' mother. She says you pulled quite a stunt after school today. Disturbed Michael pretty bad."

"What? I don't even know that jerk!"

"Well, he seems to know plenty about you! More than your own goddamned father, I guess."

"Dad—"

"I'm not having it out with you on the front lawn, Dean. Get the hell inside. Now." Mr. Winchester pointed back at the house, where a small boy stood in the open door, watching with wide eyes.

Dean cast a helpless look at Cas, still frozen at the wheel. Dean didn't look like the self-assured guy Cas had grown to know. Fuck, he looked scared.

Before he could even think it through, Cas was out of the car. "Sir?" he said to Mr. Winchester.

Coach Winchester whirled on him like he'd never even noticed he was there. "What?"

Cas swallowed. The intensity of this man's gaze was nothing to sneeze at. "I—I think I should come inside too. To help explain." When Mr. Winchester didn't immediately react, Cas was afraid he'd send him away with a growl. "It's my fault Dean's in trouble," he said quickly. "It was all my fault."

Mr. Winchester jerked a thumb in Cas's direction. "Who is this kid?" he asked Dean.

"Dad, this is Cas," Dean said evenly. "We have art class together."

Dean's dad seemed to consider this for a moment, his lips pursed. Then he motioned for Cas to follow him to the house, still not looking at him.

As they entered the front door, the little boy ducked aside to let them pass. Mr. Winchester turned to look at him. "Go to bed, Sammy."

The boy remained rooted to the spot, staring up at Cas.

"Cas, my little brother, Sam. Say hi to Cas, Sammy," Dean said, his voice suddenly light and carefree.

"Hey," Sam said quietly.

"Hello," Cas returned.

"Sammy. Bed. Now," their father repeated. Sammy retreated down the hall.

Cas found himself in a plainly appointed living room, sitting on the beige sofa next to Dean. His father sat across from them in an olive green armchair, his fingers clutching the armrests.

"I can understand," he said slowly, "if you just want to goof off and horse around like an idiot. You're young, Dean. You're allowed to make stupid mistakes. But you have to think before you joke around or else I'm stuck fielding phone calls from Michael's mother until you're in college."

Cas looked over at Dean, a question in his eyes. Was his father being deliberately obtuse? Was he giving Dean an easy out? Would Dean take it?

Dean wasn't answering, though, just staring down at the floor.

Cas spoke up. "Sir, Michael just wants to make trouble. He's only upset because Gabe made a fool of him today and—"

"I wasn't speaking to you," Mr. Winchester snapped, and Cas shut his mouth.

"Dad, stop," Dean said, his voice low and quiet. "He's my friend."

"Friend? How come I've never met him before? Must be a very new _friend_." All three of them sat in silence as the words faded in the air. Then Mr. Winchester said, "Just promise me you'll stop pulling pranks, Dean. It's your senior year. Just get through it without sending me to the loony bin, that's all I ask."

"It wasn't a prank," Dean said, and he finally sounded deliberate and stone-cold serious, like his old self. He lifted his head to look straight into his dad's eyes. "I'm seeing Cas. I kissed him hello because that's what you do when you pick up your date after school."

Cas watched Mr. Winchester's face closely, waiting for the inevitable meltdown. The man seemed to run through the gamut in just a few seconds: wide-eyed shock, open-mouthed surprise, furrowed brow of confusion, a headshake of denial.

"Aw, Jesus. You're seriously kissing men in front of the entire student body?"

"It was a peck on the goddamned cheek," Dean ground out between clenched teeth. "It wasn't a big deal."

"Not a big—? You can be such an absolute moron sometimes, Dean," his father said, clutching his head in his hands.

"Mr. Winchester," Cas said quietly, "I'm sorry, but you're the one who's more concerned with what Mrs. Arches thinks than how your own son feels."

"You don't think I care about my boy? Dean and Sammy are everything to me! I'm the one who's responsible for them, _me_ , not you!" Mr. Winchester stabbed a finger at Cas. "I've worked my whole life to protect them and now this, this—"

"Dad," Dean said, "you can't protect me from this. This isn't cigarettes or drugs or driving too fast. This is what I am."

Mr. Winchester scrubbed a hand across his drawn face. "What am I going to tell Sammy?" he sighed.

"For Christ's sake." Dean rolled his eyes. "I'll talk to him, okay? This isn't your problem, dad. This isn't a problem, period."

His father stared sullenly into thin air for a long moment before shifting his focus back to Cas. "So you're dating my son now, huh?"

"Actually, this is only our second date," Cas said. "Um, it's interesting, at least."

"Oh, for the love of—" Mr. Winchester waved toward the door. "Walk your friend—"

"Boyfriend. Or Cas. Whichever you want to pick," Dean said.

"Fine, walk your...Cas to his car and say goodnight. I'm going to bed, my head's killing me. We'll talk about this tomorrow."

Cas stood as Mr. Winchester stood, a habit from his polite upbringing. "It was nice to meet you," left his mouth before he could even take it back.

Mr. Winchester shot him a look that clearly said _yeah, right_ before trudging down the hall. "Ten minutes," he called over his shoulder, "and if you're not back inside, Dean, I'm coming out to get you."

Dean led Cas out the front door and down the cement walkway. "Well, that was awkward," Cas mumbled.

"Hey, no broken furniture, no death threats. I think it went okay." Dean shrugged. "Dad can be a real hardass, but he loves me and Sam. It hasn't been easy for him, raising us by himself."

Cas marveled at how forgiving Dean could be, even when he was going through something so difficult. "He doesn't look like he's about to sign up for the PFLAG newsletter," Cas noted.

"He's in shock, he'll get over it. I'll give him a time limit. Twelve months, he can sulk and rant and beg me to try girls and ask me all kinds of weird questions. Then that's it, he's got to suck it up and deal."

"That's a good plan. You've been thinking about this for awhile?"

"Never pictured it happening exactly this way, but yeah. I figured this would go down sooner or later." They came to Cas's car and Dean opened the driver's door for him. "Listen, I'm glad you were here. I don't know if I could have told him otherwise. So, you know, thank you."

Cas climbed into the driver's seat and held Dean's hand through the open window. "Hey, what are boyfriends for?"

Dean, for once, was the one to blush. "Yeah, sorry about that, I just didn't know what else to call you. 'Personal sex god' just didn't seem appropriate."

"Don't worry." Cas leaned out the window and Dean leaned down. They kissed, long and slow. "I like the sound of it, actually," Cas said as they parted.

"Really?" Dean's grin crept back in full force. "Cool."

"Well, I have to go home and have a talk with my mom now. She'll probably want you to come over for lasagna on Sunday night, so fair warning."

"Sunday. I'll clear my calendar." Dean stepped back from the car. "Goodnight, boyfriend."

Cas smiled at him. "Night, boyfriend." And he drove off, watching Dean shrink in his rearview mirror.

  


>   
> I couldn't stay away from sexy sporty high school Dean & Cas, they are just too cute and I hope you like them too. This was supposed to be a total PWP with backseat makeout sessions and nothing else, but angsty stuff crept in and for that I am sorry. But I hope you enjoyed it anyway!  
> 

  



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